


Under the Night

by elektrolokomotive



Category: Starlight Express - Phillips/Stilgoe/Webber
Genre: Comfort Sex, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 06:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21315649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elektrolokomotive/pseuds/elektrolokomotive
Summary: Greaseball interrupts Electra’s one-man pity party, and gets more than he bargained for in return.
Relationships: Electra/Greaseball
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Under the Night

Standing with his back to the festivities, Greaseball stared off into the darkness and shuddered at the frigid wind on his face. Winter was rapidly approaching Cali Ave—at night, the banks of northerly air that rolled off of Lake Michigan plunged the yard into temperatures nearing zero. Besides that, it was a moonless night; beyond the reaches of the high stadium lights that welcomed the night trains in, the darkness was profound. This was a night when most would choose to sleep indoors, cuddled close to companions to stave off the chill. Not even the bravest—or the stupidest—would venture out in these conditions unless a dire need arose.

Electra, apparently, had missed that memo.

Greaseball had watched him, at the culmination of his post-race tantrum, vanish into the darkness in the direction of the outbound tracks. No one had tried to stop him, and no one had followed. Even the components seemed to be in no hurry to locate their errant charge, apparently distracted by the celebration of Rusty’s victory. Greaseball was beginning to think that he was the only one to witness Electra’s exit at all.

“Grease, what’s wrong?” called Dinah, who was standing nearby. Her breath wreathed her face with silver mist. "You’re not thinking about going out there, are you?“ Her concern was genuine; he may have pushed his luck with her a few too many times lately, but no amount of refusing to take him back would prevent her worrying about him.

Greaseball glanced over his shoulder, considering the gloom at the edge of the light’s span. "I think I have to. Electra’s out there.”

“What? Why?”

“He ran off. No one else is looking for him." The diesel let out a smoky sigh. "It’s not safe.”

Looking back to Dinah, he saw that her expression had changed to one of earnest distress. “Oh, G, he’ll freeze to death.”

“I’ve got to go find him. You stay here. If I’m not back by morning, tell Tank I headed south for 14th Street.”

She nodded, clutching her hands anxiously in front of her. “Don’t go anywhere yet. I’ll be right back.”

She left him standing there for a few moments, and returned with a large oil lantern. It didn’t provide nearly the amount of light that the lamp posts did, but it would hold the darkness at bay.

Greaseball turned to stare into the night once more. Then he was starting forward, following the narrow path into the dark. As he went, he considered what it was that had him so anxious. He didn’t care much what Electra did, after all—if he wanted to throw childish temper tantrums and storm off, that was his own prerogative. He was nothing but a spoiled brat. And yet, Greaseball continued on. He couldn’t banish from his mind the thoughts of wild spirits and the treacherous landscape, or the very real danger of rivals from neighboring yards. None of those things posed a danger to a big diesel alpha, but Electra’s elaborate armor and watchful bodyguard had made it clear that he would be unsafe on his own. Then the wind picked up, tousling Greaseball’s hair, and reminded him that the temperature was a real worry, too; slender, scantily clad Electra would succumb rapidly to hypothermia.

With all these troubling notions circling in his head, Greaseball pressed on. He could see nothing beyond the reach of the lantern light, as if the world were cloaked with black velvet. Only the distant speckling of stars gave him any indication of what direction he was going. He inhaled deeply. Electra had a peculiar scent, like spun sugar and the suggestion of lightning before a storm. It had tantalized Greaseball all night, sticking in his throat and making him hungry in a way he had not been in years. But he did not smell it now.

He was approaching the outbound tracks, two pairs of parallel lines that ran through the yard and continued on into the city. Things were quiet at this hour; Greaseball could at the very least take comfort in the fact that all his fleet-mates were safe at home. He passed the tracks and studied the stretch of gloom beyond. Cali Ave was bordered by a scrap yard where plenty of dangerous spirits that would have no qualms about accosting a lonesome Racer took up residence. Greaseball went on high alert as he passed, but still he sensed nothing amiss. He decided to head westward, to a grassy green area that the fleet frequented in their off-time. As he went, he reflected on the evening. He was beginning to feel acutely stupid for the way he had treated Electra. He could not say for certain what it was about the flamboyant youngster that had inspired so much aggression in Greaseball. Any other time, the diesel mused with a grin, he would have been doing everything in his power to woo Electra, who was admittedly beautiful. But the excitement of the races and Electra’s arrogance had incited him.

_Maybe this is your fault_, he thought. _Maybe he wouldn’t have run off if you’d just been nice. And maybe Dinah would’ve taken you back._

But nice was not something he was particularly comfortable with.

A smell reached Greaseball suddenly, the one he had been looking for: candy and lightning. He stopped in his tracks, scanning his surroundings for any further hint of Electra’s location. To his left was a waist-high hedgerow, secluding part of the green. Through its dense green leaves, a silvery light was glimmering, giving away the Racer’s position. Greaseball stared, considering his next move. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten Electra and wind up getting zapped. He stood listening for a while, trying to dream up exactly what he would say. The world was silent save the soft, varied chirring of nocturnal spirits and what Greaseball soon registered as muted sniffles and sobs. His heart clenched unexpectedly.

“Electra?” He called softly. “Is that you?”

The sniffling stopped abruptly. There was a moment of silence, and finally, Electra’s voice ringing out in response. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Greaseball.”

“_Greaseball?_” The reply was incredulous. “What do you want?”

“I saw you run off and came to check on you. You shouldn’t be out here on your own.” Greaseball heaved a sigh. “Are you okay?”

“What do you care, if I’m okay? You’ve done nothing but antagonize me since I got here.”

Although the sentiment echoed Greaseball’s own internal monologue, the tone made him smart. “Come on, now,” he said. "You ain’t exactly been a walk through a field of daisies either.“

Electra was quiet a moment. "Just leave me alone.”

“Wait. I didn’t come here to fight with you more. I want to apologize.”

He heard Electra let out a shuddering sigh. When a long moment had passed in silence, the Racer spoke up again. “Well? I’m waiting.”

“I’m sorry." Greaseball kicked at a bit of loose soil with his stop. "I was a dick.”

Electra sniffled once more. Then, with a lot of rustling, he got to his knees and peered over the hedgerow. He blinked in the lantern’s yellow light for a moment, looking tired and bedraggled. His makeup had been haphazardly removed, and there were dark streaks running down his face. The high ridge of his hair was frizzy and disorderly. But his keen silver eyes cut into Greaseball, sizing him up. "What caused the sudden change of heart?“

"I didn’t want you to be out here alone,” Greaseball answered. “And while I was looking for you I started thinking. Maybe if I’d been nicer from the start, none of this would’ve happened.”

Electra watched him quietly for a moment. Then, smiling vaguely, he said, “Seems like we both were due a bit of humbling.”

“I didn’t hurt you when we were fighting, did I?”

Electra turned his face away slightly. “You pulled my hair out. I’ve got a bald patch.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is Pearl alright?”

“She’s fine. She’s just a little dramatic.”

“I didn’t mean to zap her.”

“No, that was meant for me.”

Greaseball saw Electra’s tiny smile. He was struck suddenly, tear-streaks and matted hair aside, by the beauty of the being before him. Electra’s face looked sculpted from bronze, all his features purposeful and elegant. His eyes were wide, shining, framed by those long black lashes. His lips were full and parted slightly, still tinted with blue paint. His cheekbones were high and his jaw sharp, but his face had the soft, supple cheerfulness of youth. It was a face made for teases and pouts and sweet smiles. He blinked several times at Greaseball. "What are you staring at?“

"You’re the most beautiful thing I ever seen.”

Electra seemed almost startled by his bluntness, dropping his eyes and smirking. “Where’s your girlfriend, Greaseball?”

“She won’t take me back,” Greaseball replied at once. “Can’t really blame her. I was a dick to her, too.”

Electra twisted a lock of crimson hair around his finger. “Good for her.”

A breeze picked up suddenly; Greaseball saw Electra shudder with the cold. “Come on back,” the diesel said. "You’re gonna freeze out here.“

"I can’t,” Electra said, any hint of a smile leaving his face at once. “I can’t go back. Not after humiliating myself like that.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad. Nobody’s angry at you.”

Greaseball was startled to find fresh tears rolling down Electra’s face. Electra attempted to hide them, quickly rubbing at his eyes, but the streaks of makeup made it obvious. “I’m sure they’re not angry,” he said. "They all seem like very nice people. I just can’t bear the thought of anyone else feeling bad for me.“

"Come on, Electra, don’t cry…”

“I can’t help it,” Electra replied, his voice suddenly rising to an unsettling metallic pitch. “They’ll take one look at me and all they’ll see is the spoiled Racer who can’t just be content with his perfect life, then they’ll start wondering what’s wrong with me. Then they’ll jump to conclusions. They always do. What could make me so miserable, when I have everything someone could want?”

Greaseball held his breath, unsure of how to respond.

But Electra did not give him a chance to figure it out. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me: I lost a race today, and I don’t know what they’ll do to me when I get home. I’ve never lost before, so I have no idea what the consequences are.”

“Slow down, honey–consequences from who?”

“The Commission,” Electra replied. “The Racing Commission. That’s who I work for. They make their money off my races, so when I lose they don’t make money. And I’ve never lost before, I’m their star. I don’t know what they’ll do." He buried his face in his hands, moaning miserably. Greaseball wasted no time in hoisting himself over the hedgerow to join Electra on the other side. He set the lantern aside; its light found the Racer curled up into a sobbing, shivering ball, his narrow shoulders heaving and his head buried in his arms. He had abandoned his armor, left in only his belt and codpiece.

"Starlight,” Greaseball said, “do you think they’ll hurt you?”

“They might,” Electra managed through his tears. “I wouldn’t put it past them. Or maybe I’ll just lose my job, and my home, and my team. I could wind up all alone.”

“That won’t happen,” Greaseball replied, trying his best to sound comforting. “You just told me you’re their star. And even if they did let you go, you could come live here.”

This clearly gave Electra pause. “You wouldn’t want me,” he said at length. “I’m not good for anything other than racing. If I can’t do that, I can’t do anything.”

Greaseball was beginning to understand the problem. “It was just one bad race, Electra,” he said gently. "You aren’t going to get fired over that.“

"You’re right,” Electra replied. “Maybe they’ll just beat me senseless.” Fresh sobs followed the statement. Eventually, Greaseball was compelled to put his arm around the trembling being, squeezing his bony shoulder and finding him deeply cold.

“Baby, you’re gonna freeze to death,” he said softly. “You’ve gotta come back.”

“No,” Electra replied simply. “I can’t look at them.”

“What about your team? They’re gonna be missing you.”

Electra sniffled pathetically, turning meanwhile to lean into Greaseball. “Probably. They won’t come after me, though. They know I need my space when I get in moods like this." He laughed a miserable little laugh. "I’m surprised they’re not all sick of me yet.”

“They love you.”

“How do you know?" Electra turned to look into Greaseball’s face. His eyes were glassy and his cheeks shiny-wet. "You just met us.”

“It’s obvious.”

Electra’s shivering began to subside. “Polestar, you’re warm,” he said. 

Greaseball held him tighter, pressing the slim being to his side. “Well, if you don’t want to go back, how about I stay here with you?”

Electra seemed to cheer up significantly at the suggestion. “Don’t you have a fleet to look after?” He said, hinting at a teasing smile once more.

“Aw, they can survive a night without me. I think you need me more.”

Electra studied his own fingertips. “Sorry for crying on you. You must think I’m a big baby.”

“Nah. You’re just going through some shit, huh?”

Electra laughed dryly. “Yeah, you could say that." He rubbed his face once more, then tugged at the front of his hair in an effort to neaten it. "Did you mean it? About me being beautiful?”

Greaseball chuckled. “Don’t play, Electra. You know exactly how beautiful you are.”

“I do. But it’s nice to hear it sometimes." He gave his head a little, proud shake. "And you can call me Lex.”

“Lex,” Greaseball echoed, grinning at the Racer. “You _are_ beautiful. I was just too damn stupid to see it at first.”

“You got caught up in the race. I don’t blame you.”

“I just wish we could have started off on the right foot. I hate how bad I treated you.”

“Not entirely your fault." Electra shifted to face him fully, all but resting his head on the diesel’s shoulder. "I know very well what a bitchy little pest I can be. And anyway, there’s still time. I’m not leaving until tomorrow.”

“Time for what?”

Electra gave him a sultry smile, an expression that contrasted sharply with the tears still gleaming in his eyes. “Who’s to say?”

Greaseball raised an eyebrow. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

He leaned in, pressing his mouth gently to Electra’s. A little voice inside him began to rejoice in that instant, seeming to shout, _Finally, you idiot._

It was a brief kiss; Electra turned his face away quickly, demurring. He seemed to grow almost shy, watching Greaseball from under long lashes as color came into his cheeks. He cocked his head and let out a soft electrical whir, which made a fire of want catch and flare up in Greaseball’s chest. He leaned in in pursuit of Electra, intent upon kissing him more. Electra yielded to a few pecks, and then transferred a gentle shock to Greaseball.

“You’re teasing me now,” Greaseball said, grinning again. “You’re gonna get me all worked up, baby.”

“Promise?” Electra said, dodging another kiss.

Greaseball paused for a moment, watching Electra. He was unfamiliar with electric body language; the Racer seemed to be sending mixed signals. On one hand, he was smiling and batting his eyelashes flirtatiously. On the other hand, his hair was letting off tiny white sparks that, to Greaseball, sent a clear message of ‘proceed with caution’. So he simply waited, holding still until Electra seemed to grow frustrated. "Well?“ the Racer said. "Why’d you stop?”

“I can’t tell if you’re into it. And I’m not getting barbecued tonight.”

“I am,” Electra said at once. “I promise I am. I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be,” Greaseball said at once. “I won’t hurt you. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

“You’ve never fooled around with a Racer, though. We’re delicate.”

“Well, just tell me if you want me to stop. No zapping, okay?”

Electra nodded. Then he tossed his head, sending hot sparks raining. They landed, tingling pleasantly, on Greaseball’s face and hands, and he began to get the message. This was the go-ahead, and from Electra’s words, he intended to let Greaseball go all the way. The very thought was, for a moment, immobilizing; Greaseball had not set out, after all, with the intention of getting lucky with Electra. It had been the furthest thing from his mind, in fact. But he was not one to let an opportunity pass.

“Come on,” Electra said, voice tinny with impatience. “I’m cold! I need you to warm me up.”

Greaseball reached out to catch Electra’s wrist, and found that Electra transferred several pulses of pleasurable electricity into him. They ran down his arm, through his middle, and straight to his groin. He grinned, pulling the Racer in close to kiss him once more. "You are so hot,“ he whispered between kisses. "I must have done something really, really right.”

“I’ve always had a thing for diesels,” Electra responded. “But I’ve never slept with one. I’ve heard some rumors that I’m hoping you can substantiate.”

“That I can what?”

Electra rolled his eyes. “Prove or disprove.”

Greaseball nudged the Racer gently, then gave his cool neck a few slow kisses. “What kind of rumors?”

“_Big cocks_ comes immediately to mind.”

“You don’t waste a lot of time, huh?”

“What can I say?" Electra chuckled. "I told you I was fast.”

This time, Electra welcomed Greaseball’s kiss. It was a deep, hard kiss, and Electra let his tongue caress Greaseball’s lower lip. His hands, meanwhile, splayed on the diesel’s broad chest, kneading him gently. He broke away for a moment, breathing hard, to laugh delightedly. “Polestar, you are so hot. Even if you stink.”

Greaseball grinned, turning his attention to Electra’s neck once more. He nuzzled the silky skin behind the Racer’s ear, then licked along his jawbone. The chalky taste of face-paint filled his mouth. By now Electra’s arms were around his neck, his long fingers drumming on Greaseball’s shoulder pads. He let out a soft whimper of pleasure as Greaseball closed his teeth against the dip of that fragile collarbone. Encouraged by another pleasant shock, Greaseball bit him gently.

“That’s good,” Electra murmured. “I want more.”

“And you always get what you want, right?”

“Usually." Electra gave him a glittering smile. "But you’re probably beginning to see why.”

“Yeah, baby. I get why that bodyguard of yours never takes his eye off you.”

Electra giggled. “Krupp would worship me even if I never touched him.”

Electra’s chestplate was silky-smooth, and tasted vaguely of perfume. That explained the candy scent; the lightning scent, however, was all natural. It was strong in Electra’s hair and in the curve of his neck, and it filled Greaseball with that hunger he had felt all night. He was fully hard, aching straight to his root. The throbbing compelled him to run his hands down Electra’s sides, feeling the rise of each rib and the fall of his waist, then the hard ridge of his hips. There he stopped, holding Electra gently at the hips, and said, “I’m gonna give it to you, baby, if that’s what you want.”

“It is,” Electra replied, with no hint of uncertainty. “But I want to suck you first.”

Greaseball chuckled. “Be my guest.”

“I’ve been thinking about it since I first saw you,” Electra said as he disengaged Greaseball’s grip on him. Greaseball sat, unfastening his belt and pulling off his codpiece to set aside. Electra, watching, was visibly given pause. His eyes flashed and he opened his mouth slightly.

“Well,” he said, recovering his composure quickly. “That’s one rumor answered.”

He settled alongside Greaseball, brushing the loose hair at the back of his head to one side. Greaseball found himself watching Electra’s mouth; the remnants of his glittery makeup were clinging, and it was unreasonably sexy. “You’re a bit bigger than Krupp,” he was saying, “but nothing I can’t handle.”

“I like your confidence.”

Electra smirked as he took a hold of Greaseball’s cock. He gave it a few exploratory strokes, testing its girth in his hand. Greaseball wanted to close his eyes and enjoy, but he could not tear his gaze from Electra. He had not exaggerated in the least when he had said that Electra was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. There seemed to be glitter embedded in his face, a sort of subtle permanent sparkle. The hair he had brushed aside fell in soft cherry-red waves around his slender neck. Below his thin, copper-colored skin, tiny forks of electricity jumped.

At last, Electra seemed prepared, and lowered himself to take the head of Greaseball’s cock into his mouth. His lips were hot and soft as they caressed it; his tongue flicked gently against it. Greaseball did close his eyes now, reflexively. He bit his lip as Electra took him deeper, sucking with gentle intensity. The Racer’s tongue was clever, licking the tip with each of Electra’s backward motions. As he had promised, Greaseball’s size did not seem to hamper him; he braced himself on Greaseball’s thigh and took his cock deep into his throat. It seemed almost effortless. Greaseball groaned.

“Fuck, you’re good,” he said. “You must practice a lot.”

Electra withdrew for just a moment, trailing strings of saliva, to answer, “My boys are lucky. Just ask them, they’ll tell you.”

Then, he was getting back to business. He took Greaseball deep again, and this time he lingered. He swallowed around the cock in his throat, causing a pleasant undulation that made Greaseball shudder. “Fuck,” he said again. "Starlight…“

He saw Electra smile, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. He drew back a bit, focusing on the head a moment. His hand, meanwhile, wrapped around the base of Greaseball’s cock and massaged him gently, sending fresh waves of tingling static up and down his member. Greaseball reached to weave his hand into Electra’s hair, but the second he did, Electra smacked him away and sat up, saying, "Don’t touch my hair. If you’ve got to touch me, grab my neck or something. The hair is off-limits.”

“Understood,” Greaseball said. “Sorry.”

Satisfied that he had got his point across, Electra resumed once more. Greaseball took him up on his suggestion and rested a heavy hand on the back of the Racer’s slim neck, squeezing gently. Electra, in turn, fluttered his eyelashes and purred. The vibrations were enough to put Greaseball over the edge; he came with a muted groan. Electra withdrew only just enough to swallow what he gave. When the pleasant spasms had passed, Electra gave the head a final suck and withdrew. Now his lips were swollen and purplish, causing Greaseball to realize that the blue tint was their natural color. _That’s hot_, he thought, still half-lost in ecstasy.

Electra sat back to watch him as he recovered. “How was that?” He asked at length.

“Fucking incredible. I’ve never been blown like that.”

The Racer fairly vibrated with pride. Then he said, “I’m cold again. Can we cuddle?”

“Cuddle nothing,” Greaseball laughed. “I think I owe you a good pounding, at least.”

“Obviously. But I figured you’d need a minute to warm back up. Refractory period or whatever.”

Greaseball grinned. “You never heard that rumor, huh? No cool-down time, baby—I’m a diesel.”

To Greaseball’s surprise, Electra looked a little hesitant. He twisted his hair around his fingers and chewed his lip.

“What’s the matter?” Greaseball asked.

“Nothing. I just hope you aren’t… too surprised by me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Racers are built different. Probably not like anything you’ve ever seen.”

“I ain’t scared. I’m sure it’s just as pretty as the rest of you.”

Electra blushed. His embarrassment was totally unexpected; Greaseball found himself smiling indulgently. 

“Lex,” he said. “Are you a virgin?”

Electra bristled at once, letting off blue sparks. “No! Don't be ridiculous!" After a moment he went on, more gently, "Not technically, anyway. I’ve done a bunch of other stuff, just never…”

Greaseball nodded in understanding. “That’s alright, baby. We’ll be real slow and gentle. And if you hate it, we can stop.”

There was an immensity of gratitude in Electra’s eyes when he looked back at Greaseball. “I’ve been too scared of it hurting. You’ve done it before, right?”

“Yeah, a few times. It’s not that scary. You just have to be nice and relaxed and it slides right in.”

Electra was looking less nervous by the second. He hugged his arms to his belly for a moment, then said, “Alright, let’s do it. I’m ready if you are.” Electra laid himself on his back in the grass, shivering violently in the cold by now. “Hurry up, I’m gonna freeze to death.”

Obediently, Greaseball came to kneel between the Racer’s spread legs. He watched Electra unlatch his belt, admiring his flat belly and the points of his hipbones. The bright red of his plating complimented his smooth cyan skin.

Electra’s was breathing audibly as he removed his belt and codpiece. His anxiety was understandable, Greaseball thought. Sex could be a little painful if done improperly; he had learned that the hard way. At any rate, he was glad that he had the experience behind him to allay Electra’s fears; in fact, he felt rather privileged to be the first.

He admired the span of Electra’s spread legs, all smoothly muscled thighs and the tender cleft of his buttocks. But he paused; in the dimness, he couldn’t be sure if his eyes were deceiving him. Electra was not equipped the way Greaseball had anticipated at all. He had a small cock, eagerly stiff, but the rest was distinctly feminine.

Electra had propped himself up on his elbows to watch Greaseball. “Is it too weird?” He asked. "We don’t have to…“

"No, it’s not too weird,” Greaseball answered at once. “I think it’s great. It’s just that… when you said you’d never done it, we were talking about two different things. I didn’t realize you were a _virgin_ virgin.”

Electra laughed a little. “I guess I should have explained a little better. This is how all Racers are put together.”

“Got it. It’s no problem. This is probably easier.”

“Oh, good." Electra gave him a flirty smirk. "Because I really want it. I’ve got myself all warmed up about it.”

Greaseball returned his attention to Electra’s spread legs. With immense gentleness, he ran his hand up the Racer’s inner thigh, then moved his thumb over the slit. It was slick with arousal already; Electra whirred. Aside from the obvious addition of a cock, Electra was built like every other girl Greaseball had fucked. Everything was soft and inviting, velvety to his touch. Electra responded strongly to his gentle exploration, chewing his lip and rolling his head back in the grass. Eventually Greaseball took a hold of that modest cock, stroking it up and down. It didn’t appear in any way different from his own, save in size.

At last, when he was confident that Electra was aroused enough, he ventured to sliding a finger into him. It entered easily, and Electra’s thrum of pleasure encouraged him. The Racer was hot and narrow, gripping Greaseball’s finger readily. He explored inside a moment, keeping a close eye on Electra’s reaction. He was flushed and purring. When Greaseball ran his touch up and down the front wall, seeking that one magic spot, Electra cooed.

“That feels amazing,” he said. “I’ve never had anything in there.”

“Do you think you’re ready?”

Electra nodded. “Just be gentle.”

Greaseball withdrew his finger and sat back on his heels, massaging his cock back to a full erection. Then he was lowering himself onto Electra, pressing the tip of his cock to the slit. Electra did not react much save a minute shiver, so Greaseball advanced. As he pushed harder, the Racer tensed and drew a sharp breath, but then whispered, “Don’t stop. I’m okay.”

Greaseball obeyed. Now he was applying significant pressure; Electra whined softly. Finally, there was the little give that Greaseball was waiting for, and he slid an inch or so in. Electra’s hands had flown to his shoulders and were gripping him tight.

“You doing alright, bud?” Greaseball asked quietly.

“I’m fine. As long as you don’t call me 'bud’ again, anyway.”

Greaseball chuckled. He advanced further, until he was deep inside Electra. He blinked a few times, maintaining his composure. "Fuck, you’re tight,“ he said. "That doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No. Try moving a little.”

Obligingly, Greaseball gave him a short thrust. Electra’s eyes fluttered at once.

“Mm,” he said. “That’s good. Do it again.”

Greaseball only needed to do what his body was craving; he rolled his hips against Electra, driving himself in to the hilt. He repeated the motion a few times, his eyes never leaving Electra’s face. Electra gazed back at him unwaveringly, smiling. Greaseball saw the telltale signs of pleasure on his face: his raised eyebrows and rapid blinking, and the slight part of his lips. He let out a soft breath before closing his eyes in full.

With Electra’s clear enjoyment, Greaseball picked up the pace. He shifted to brace himself, on his knees with a hand planted on either side of Electra’s head. From there, he fell into a steady rhythm. It was all he could do not to succumb to ecstasy at once; Electra was tight and hot in a way he had never experienced, receiving every stroke with a gentle tense of muscles. 

Electra’s legs came up to encircle his waist. He was panting, his voice rising and falling in a pattern of moans. His tongue wet his lips, and he cracked his eyes open to gaze up at Greaseball. “Fuck,” he murmured, breathy. "That feels so good, Grease.“

"Yeah, baby?” Greaseball answered. “You like that?”

“Mm-hm." Electra let out a happy sigh. "Oh, yes. It’s good.”

Greaseball felt rather accomplished, having reduced Electra to inarticulation so quickly. He basked in the admiring gaze of the Racer, who was looking almost dreamy. _Grease, you dog_, he thought, _getting it in with a Racer. Who’d have guessed?_

Almost as soon as he had had this thought, Greaseball chided himself for it. Electra did not deserve those crass words, even if they went unspoken. He was beautiful and fancy, and had given Greaseball the enormous honor of being his first lay. Greaseball was struck with the thought then that he did not have the words to describe Electra, as much as he longed to. He wanted to write songs about the Racer’s beauty and cutting wit. For now, he had to settle. "You’re gorgeous, Lex,“ he said.

This was more than enough for Electra. He beamed and trembled with pleasure. "You’re not so bad yourself,” he said. “Can you go harder?”

“Sure thing." He increased the force of his thrusts once more, until Electra’s whole body shook with them. The Racer began to spark once more, hot flecks of lightning flying from his hair in a rainbow of colors. Greaseball didn’t have to guess at the meaning of this vibrant display. In fact, it provided a good visual for his own internal state; he was fighting orgasm and overwhelmed with fondness for Electra, so much so that he felt his heart might burst. He would do anything that the Racer asked, anything to make him happy. Suddenly he understood the depths of adoration he had seen in the components. They had known Electra for years, and the feeling had had time to develop into that worshipful love. To have that chance! To make Electra his own…

"I’m gonna come,” Electra said quietly. “Oh, Greaseball, don’t stop…”

Greaseball grinned delightedly. He could feel it begin with gentle contractions around his cock. He thrust into them, relishing Electra’s high, metallic cry of ecstasy as he climaxed. The sparks turned to bolts of white lighting that jumped to every nearby surface and briefly lit up the night. Those that landed on Greaseball tingled fiercely, going straight to his core and encouraging his own orgasm. He re-positioned again, grasping Electra’s narrow hips and giving him a final handful of thrusts before being overcome himself. It was an intense climax, one that left him panting and light-headed, with all his weight thrown on Electra. As it passed, his muscles went slack. Below him, Electra mumbled incomprehensibly.

With some effort, Greaseball sat up. “What?”

“You were suffocating me. It was ruining my afterglow.”

“Sorry.”

Electra smoothed his hair with one hand. “Well,” he said. “That was… that was something.”

“Not bad for your first time?”

“I’m a little concerned you might have just ruined all future sex for me.”

Greaseball rumbled with satisfaction. “Consider it my pleasure.”

Electra rolled onto his side in the grass. “Spoon me,” he said. “Actually, turn that light off, and then spoon me.”

Greaseball did as instructed, feeling a bit like a dancing monkey. He lowered the flame of the lantern to a soft golden glow, then settled down behind Electra with the Racer nestled against the curve of his body. Electra stretched, pressing his sparkling, frizzy hair into the diesel’s face. It tickled, but for that sweet smell in his nose, it was worth it.


End file.
